


Match (es)

by TheonlyDan



Series: Heaven to touch [2]
Category: Nightwish, Real Person Fiction, Sharja, Within Temptation (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, F/F, Infidelity, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seriously what's wrong with me, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29086995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonlyDan/pseuds/TheonlyDan
Summary: That classic antagonistic trope we all need.
Relationships: Sharon den Adel/Tarja Turunen
Series: Heaven to touch [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134137
Kudos: 3





	Match (es)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. The characters are just borrowed, and most of the events did not occur.  
> All faults are mine and mine alone.

They didn’t see eye to eye.

The first meeting was ok; they were both professionals so they knew how to sound like they actually liked each other.

It would be dumb to talk to anyone like Tarja or Sharon if you didn’t know a thing or two about music. People like them hated ignorance. That was why they disliked each other so much. They were too similar. They matched only musically and it was why their collaboration worked.

 _Not for long_ , thought Sharon. She didn’t hate the Finn exactly; she just had trouble with all the cheeriness, loudness and those insufferably bright green eyes. If there was one thing she hated, it would be the stupid jitters Tarja gave her sometimes. It was not like Sharon was nervous. She just hated that there was a stranger out there who knew her so well. Too well.

And Sharon might just conclude that she _hated_ Tarja in general. But she would see. They were about to shoot the Paradise MV in less than a week.

***

Tarja didn’t show, but she felt like an outsider. Truth was, sticking around with WT band members made her want to be alone. Ruud was nice. So were the others. The problem was with a specific brunet.

Sharon’s hostility was so transparent that Tarja wanted to drag her to a corner, and teach her a lesson or two about courtesy and socializing. Slapping involved. She knew the Dutch must know what she was doing. Tarja hated her childishness. And pettiness. And her devilishly-pretty face. Made Tarja the more to want to slap that woman around a bit.

If Tarja’s goal here was to make a list of things she hated about the older woman instead of shooting a video, she would definitely succeed.

***

“What’s your problem?”

Tarja muttered under her breath. Her hands were locked with Sharon. It was a good thing that they were wearing gloves. The duo wanted to keep minimal contact.

“Just smile and at least pretend you like this. The camera’s still rolling.”

Sharon shot back, regretting the idea of recording a behind-the-scenes.

“You could always edit that out.”

Groused Tarja. She was tired. Tired of getting in and out of the costumes. Tired of getting her makeup touched up. Tired of seeing how perfect Sharon always looked. Tired of feeling tense and hot near the brunet.

“Just…be patient. I want to finish this as much as you do.” Hushed Sharon, “It’s not all about you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Answered Tarja in a higher tone. The crew might hear but she couldn’t care less. Although she had forgotten what they were arguing in the first place, she certainly knew what Sharon was implying.

“Never mind.” Sharon gritted her teeth. It prompted Tarja to squeeze her hand tight, and elicited a surprised gasp. It made something in Tarja purr.

“What are you doing?” A blush climbed onto Sharon’s cheeks, visible under the makeup. Tarja cocked a brow. Their gazes met and for the first time of this long day, they looked at one another. _Really_ looked.

“What are _you_ doing?”

Husked Tarja. Sharon didn’t know she wanted to snap or to kiss that smugness off of Tarja’s face. Luckily she didn’t have to make that decision because the director yelled _action_ before it all got out of hand.

But maybe it all was too late.

***

“Get inside.” Growled the taller woman. She locked the door behind and bolted it. The other woman explored the older woman’s body, consequently wrinkling her clothes. Sharon didn’t seem to mind.

Between sucking and biting the column of Sharon’s neck, Tarja growled, “Shut the fuck up.”, and after the brunet spun around, she pinned her onto the bathroom door. Momentarily.

Their bodies were flush against each other. Their breaths felt hot against each other’s faces. Tarja’s lips were red and dewy. Traces of Sharon’s lipstick could be seen on her face and neck. The sharp brown eyes were now reduced to cloudy cocoa. Tarja was no better. Her pupils were dilated, gaze heavy.

“Could you just stop…” Tarja palmed Sharon’s breast roughly through her bra, “Giving…”, a hard shove in Sharon’s center with her knee, “Orders?”

Sharon refused to make a sound although her mouth parted with wanton. Tarja’s face darkened. She put a hand around Sharon’s neck and kissed her as rough as she could. The force knocked Sharon’s head to bang into the door; with that pain, dizziness and the ache accumulating between her legs, Sharon jerked forward.

Tarja smirked in their kiss. Sharon huffed into her mouth, annoyed at the state of her arousal. She reached out and cupped the Finn’s jean-clad pussy. Tarja’s breath hitched, her face contorting with bliss. _Such a pretty little bitch._

“Don’t act like you own everything.” Sharon snarled, smacking Tarja’s hand away and started to undo her pants. Tarja glared and started to do the same to Sharon. This was wrong and reckless, but it was bound to happen after every one of their interactions changed into foreplay.

_God, how I hate you._

It was part of the thoughts that swirled in their eyes along with lust, desperation, and want. No matter how shaky their hands were, they were determined to make their rivals beg in _some_ way. Tarja knew she wasn’t going to last long. She was so slick that it was a miracle that Sharon didn’t call her out when she cupped her center.

She got to the brunet first after a harsh yank at Sharon’s waistband. She jammed a hand in the heat then _voila_.

“Ah fuck!”

Sharon buckled into her palm with a painful shout and Tarja hummed in delight. Goddamn the Dutch was already wet and prepared to be fucked hard.

“Shut up before somebody hears us.”

Scolded Tarja when she slipped a finger into Sharon’s entrance. Sharon moaned in the back of her throat. She stared daggers at the shorter woman, face flushed with defiance and the slightest trace of shyness. She did the exact same thing to Tarja.

The Finn hissed. Yep, she wasn’t going to last long.

“You’re fucking soaked.” Barked Sharon, rubbing Tarja’s pulsing clit with the root of her palm. Tarja moaned and gyrated her hips. It was terrible that they were still in heels. How old were they? Twenty?

“Look who’s the one to talk.” The green-eyed nymph retaliated. She looked like a sex-goddess with her sleek black hair framing her pink face, lips swollen and moist that reminded Sharon of what her pussy might look like now—speaking of, she quickly put another finger into Tarja’s heat, slowly and agonizingly thrusting as deep as they could go. She watched as Tarja got used to her digits, trembled and tossed her head back. Sharon lurched in and nipped the soft of Tarja’s throat. She could feel her heartbeats below her mouth. It made her drunk and impossibly wetter. She was leaking all over Tarja’s hand.

“Must everything be a contest with you?”

Sharon mumbled into Tarja’s fair skin, her hands attacking and grinding the warmth of Tarja’s pussy. _In and out, in and out._ Tarja matched her rhythm and reciprocated, producing a cacophony of fuckery. Splashes and slaps, sloshes and gurgles, all made from their contact with one another’s most intimate area. But this was not about intimacy. This was _war_.

How Sharon held on with stormy eyes and tight pink lips made Tarja’s stomach drop low. The older woman looked absolutely beautiful like this. Hair tousled, blouse undone, her core in the palm of Tarja’s hand.

Seeing that predatory look in Tarja’s eyes made Sharon more aware of their power dynamic. She surged forward and captured Tarja’s mouth. _There, now we’re equal._ Finesse would be wrong to describe the kiss. It was a primal one. When Tarja nipped her lower lip and made her bleed, hell broke loose from her abdomen. Sharon cried and Tarja was just in time to seal that sound with her mouth. She tasted that orgasm straight off of Sharon’s lips, swallowed it, then her body couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to—she was already coming, clenching around Sharon’s fingers in an embarrassingly strong force. But Sharon was still in her high and Tarja was just keeping up with her.

Fingers deep, hands sore, covered in sweat. Puffs of breaths echoed in the bathroom. A long stare that broke their entanglement. A discussion behind the door was made about the duo’s fight.

“What the fuck are we doing?”

Asked Sharon, collecting her breath. She could still taste Tarja in her mouth.

Tarja cleared her throat and shrugged. Sharon tried that to notice that she had a well-fucked glow on her face.

“You should say that I slapped you, hit you or something.”

Gesturing at the cut on Sharon’s lip, Tarja offered. For once she looked at ease. Unguarded.

“Jeez, let’s save that kind of fun for the next time.”

Sighed the Dutch, fixing the collar of her blouse after wiping the smeared lipstick off her face. Tarja rolled her eyes, but smirked after a second thought.

“Yeah, let’s.”

***

The photoshoot began fine. Then Tarja arrived like a hurricane of cherry bombs, making the morning longer than it already was.

_Why do you hate her so much?_

Robert asked once; Sharon only answered with a massive eye-roll. She knew his husband could see it clear today, because she had to spend almost every _second_ with the green-eyed devil.

Not to mention what happened last time when their hands slipped into each other’s pants by accident. Sharon definitely hadn’t thought about it since.

***

“Sharon! These are too tight.” Tugging the back of her white dress, Tarja scowled, “I can’t even breathe. God.”.

The younger woman was upset to have to shoot on a field of grass. _A studio in the middle of nowhere. How fascinating._ Sharon schooled her expression into a kind one. It only made her look like she bit into a lemon.

“Let me help.” She stepped in to assist. Tarja took a step back.

“Where are your minions?”

“They are all coming so you can either zip it and let me help you, or you can just suffer. I’d be glad to watch.”

Sharon snapped. The startled look suited Tarja. She around wordlessly and the taller woman closed their distance.

“Ow!”

Tarja yelped when something pointy prickled her lower back. The warm hands stilled.

“Sorry.” Sharon muttered, distracted.

“You just can’t give up the idea of seeing me suffer, don’t you?”

It was meant to be sarcastic but somehow it became teasing. The pair of hands stilled on her waist. Tarja cursed inward, uncomfortably warm. A breeze swept in their direction carried Sharon’s scent to Tarja’s attention. It reminded her of _that_ day, when the room smelled like Sharon’s arousal and perfume.

“How do you feel now?”

Asked Sharon throatily, confirming Tarja’s guess—they were both thinking about the same thing. Tarja swallowed.

“Like a million bucks.”

***

The second time it happened as they stumbled into a shadowy room in the back of the studio. The argument was heated and so was their kiss—literally “battling for dominance”, so to speak.

 _What are they arguing about?_ Thought Tarja with her bra dangling undone and her hand in Sharon’s hair. It didn’t matter because Sharon smelled so fucking good, and her hands had magic to make her week in the knees, make her lose her mind, made her _wet_ as hell.

The second time was a tad different because Tarja was actually beginning to enjoy this, when she could feel Sharon’s mouth fastening around her nipples.

She was going down on her and she let her. The moon shone brighter in Sharon’s eyes. In the dark, Sharon was Tarja’s only guide because she was overridden with desire.

Sharon tugged Tarja’s pants and underwear down to her ankles, not patient enough to get rid of the whole thing. She wanted to see Tarja lose her composure, _now_.

Also, they barely had time for this before everyone noticed their absence.

Having an ugly fight would still be the perfect excuse if they got caught.

It was a cliché turn-on for Tarja to think about getting caught. It was titillating enough to see Sharon on her knees, facing her soaked pussy.

Interesting. She thought she was more watcher than an exhibitionist.

“You shaved for me?”

Sharon said before blowing a stream of air on Tarja’s bare pussy. Tarja’s hips jumped. She could feel her arousal dripping down her inner thigh.

“You should already put that pretty mouth to good use.”

Sharon obeyed with eagerness. Currents ran rampant in the pit of Tarja’s belly, leaving fires to burn when Sharon tongued her entrance. She choked out a groan and parted her legs, offering herself to Sharon. Sharon cooed encouragements and Tarja could feel the vibrations snaking up, striking her mind dizzy. Sharon’s nails sank into her thigh when she tried to push her left leg onto the table. The wooden table creaked as Tarja complied, her legs offensively open to grant Sharon more access. She gathered a fistful of the brunet’s hair, keeping her in place. Hurrying up, Sharon ate Tarja out like her life depend on it. Tarja thought she might combust within a heartbeat.

She started to whimper pleas when Sharon’s hand joined the action. She started flicking Tarja’s clit while slurping her essence in big, wide strokes of her warm, velvety tongue. Her grip on the brown hair tightened, but Sharon didn’t complain. She merely changed her tempo, massaging the engorged nub in frenzy.

And that was what sent Tarja into the epicenter of white fireworks, so loud and powerful that she couldn’t hear her own scream when her pussy squirmed and come all over Sharon’s face.

When the shaking was gone Sharon stood up, gracefully aroused. Her knees were too old for this and they really didn’t have time for another round. They were already fifteen minutes late in schedule.

“We should do this more often rather than bickering.”

She said casually, waiting for Tarja to pull herself together. Now that her eyes were used to the darkness, she could see how unruly Tarja was. She already wanted to hear her beg again. That did nothing good to the ache between Sharon’s legs.

Sending the taller woman a dirty look, Tarja managed to appear presentable with her ruined makeup and wrinkly top. Talk about star-power.

The Finn made one last check with her reflection on the dusty glass.

Their gazes met on the glass, and Tarja looked sexy and terrifying all at once.

“Oh, I promise you…” Purred Tarja, “This is not over yet.”

She went out of the cobwebby room without turning back, while Sharon melted into a puddle of want behind her.

***

Boundaries were meant to be broken, and so were rituals. As a band they always gather before a gig to shout encouragements to each other, laughing and howling as the energy of the crowd passed onto them.

Weeks after the photoshoot, Tarja invited WT to a festival she would be playing and it surprised Sharon. It could be a publicity stunt, a friendly gesture, or an olive-branch.

Or an _invitation_.

Boundaries were meant to be broken, and maybe, so were rituals. Little did Sharon know she was going to break a particularly important one.

***

Sharon wouldn’t admit that she couldn’t stop thinking about their rendezvous, about Tarja’s flustered look, plump lips, and how good it was to finally reduce that entitled bitch into a pleading mess.

Sharon wouldn’t admit she got lost on purpose backstage so she could bump into Tarja.

It took two left turns to find what she was looking for. Peeking behind the door, in a tank top and a pair of shorts, Tarja was stretching on a yoga mat. It occurred to her that solo artists might also have a ritual of their own. For Tarja, it appeared to be a highly-private one. _What a diva._

Tarja had a lot of skin on display, and that was a pleasant surprise. Sharon wondered if there were any marks she made left. She wondered if she could brand Tarja before she went onstage. That idea sent a jolt to her stomach.

She took action. Tarja didn’t look up because she was wearing earplugs. She closed the door with an explicit _click_ of securing the lock. When she turned around, Tarja was staring at her, bemused with her earplugs abandoned.

“Sharon! What are you doing here?”

“Well, nice to see you too.”

Nonchalant, Sharon put her hands on her waist and stared down at Tarja, appreciating the Finn’s enraged look.

“You look good. Love the ponytail.”

She observed, eyes raking all over Tarja. Tarja opened her mouth and snapped it shut, a blush climbing to the tip of her ear. She looked endearing.

Tarja stood up quickly, refused to be treated like an object. Her movements were the matches for the fire.

“Are you here just to compliment my looks?”

“You’ll love me too much.”

Smirked Sharon. The other woman guffawed. She walked towards Sharon and hoped she would leave. But she wanted her to stay so she could get back at her.

Sharon didn’t budge. Inches away, she radiated the message of _I have every right to be here_. That spurred Tarja further on.

The interested glint in Sharon’s eyes reminded Tarja how pathetic she was, begging for release, pushing and grinding into Sharon’s hand like crazy. A stream of arousal went down Tarja’s belly. She shifted her stance, discovering the familiar ache between her legs. Sharon took notice of that.

The air thinned. All it took was a wordless stare going too long before they rushed forward for a kiss, one that was heated and long-overdue.

Somehow Tarja was the one being pushed onto the door. Sharon was a lot taller than Tarja with her heeled boots on.

Tarja’s hands were pinned down. Her underwear felt damp after Sharon bit and sucked on her neck, her ear, her collarbone; it was like she had memorized all of the sensitive spots. She took a deep breath and was instantly high on Sharon’s scent. Her body molded hotly into Tarja’s poorly-clothed one.

When Sharon reached out to cup her cunt, she figured gaining some control— _any kind at all_ —might be her last saving grace. That was why Tarja took Sharon’s hand and shoved it straight into her panties. Sharon hissed as she touched the soft, moist folds that were pretty much screaming _fuck me now_. She stroked Tarja’s labia. Tarja shivered with a sultry look in her eyes. It was so unfair that Tarja could look this delicious when fucked. Sharon parted the folds and dipped a finger into the heat. Tarja’s hand loosened around hers and reached for her upper arm for support. Her breaths were coming out in shudders. Anger was still visible on her face. As Sharon’s fingers begin to ghost on her clit with the fluids she gathered, she mouthed a silent _o_ with her frown flattening.

“You can’t just…” Panted Tarja, her head turning to the other side when Sharon planted a kiss on her cheek. It was almost too tender to take. Then Sharon buried her face in the crook of her neck.

“Just what? Come in here to fuck you?”

Her voice was muffled. Before Tarja could retort, Sharon started to touch her for real. Muscles memories went crashing back. Tarja wanted to scream for her release but Sharon stopped. Completely. Tarja exhaled shakily, refused to beg.

She already felt sore with a steady heartbeat pulsing there. Sharon knew it too. Her hand stayed still. She was delaying the release because she wanted to hear Tarja scream her name.

Their eyes met. They were armed with incomprehensible masks.

Sharon set her jaw. Tarja licked her lips. They kissed again, unhurried. It was unprecedented and both women were cautious. They had just entered a dangerous zone. It was the first time they were consciously doing this for what it was.

Tarja had to say that Sharon was a very good kisser. She made her feel like she wasn’t here just to fuck her. She made her feel that she was devoted to the affectionate stuff as well. Sharon probed the inside of her mouth and she moaned when Sharon swirled her tongue, then grazed her lip with her teeth.

With that moan, the tip of Sharon’s finger started to dance on Tarja’s clit again. Tarja cried softly when an acute explosion started to crash in. Sharon held her tight now, her vacant hand steadying her waist. She continued to press her lips on her, sealing her sounds with her pace quickening. Tarja pivot forward to chase that release when suddenly, Sharon stopped again and this time her hand wasn’t even touching her. She just hovered on her mound. Wet, warm, teasing, leaving Tarja empty and discontent.

Tarja still said nothing. She closed her eyes in defeat, still grasping onto Sharon. She didn’t know how many times Sharon wanted to edge her. She was probably doing this for entertainment.

“C’mon, you know what I wanna hear.” Husked Sharon next to her ear, “Just a simple _please_ will suffice.”

“Why are you really here, Sharon?”

She didn’t answer. Tarja thought she was going to take her hand from her pants and walk away. Because at some point, this twisted game needed to stop.

“I guess I just missed the sound when you come.” With that, Sharon slipped her fingers down once more, gathered an abundant amount of her juices and lubricated her pulsating clit. Tarja’s grip tightened on Sharon. She was too close and too sensitive. Every caress was painful. She wanted to climax so badly.

“That simple, huh?”

Tarja gave a strangled moan when Sharon pressed down. She wanted to see Sharon’s face but she didn’t want Sharon to see hers.

“And maybe the way you look when you come. Basically, all of it really.”

Sharon said as if she was talking about the weather. Tarja was breathing hard. She was right on the brink.

“Why don’t you just admit that you love having sex with me?”

Gasped the Finn, arching her body when Sharon rubbed her again with a different kind of pattern.

“Maybe after you scream my name, I will.”

Tarja, unfortunately, screamed Sharon’s name because her mind went chaotic when Sharon started to make her come, merciless, flicking and assaulting her clit. It was hard and fast, just what Tarja wanted. Her pussy tightened and her whole body shook. Sharon made her orgasm excruciating as hell. Tarja’s system shut down automatically after her climax. She trembled with residual shock, sweating like she had finished her workout routine.

Sharon wiped her hands on her shorts. She backed away an unfamiliar gleam. Within a few minutes, Tarja knew she would be clear-headed to acknowledge the whole event. Must be grave, judging the look on Sharon’s face.

The Dutch suddenly smirked.

“I still don’t like you.” Said Sharon. Tarja shifted away from the door with her remaining strength, and mirrored Sharon’s lopsided smile.

“Neither do I.”

“Makes the two of us.”

As if she wanted to apologize for all the disruptions, Sharon fixed a soft yet loaded look at Tarja before she opened the door, and left.

***

It was a huge dinner. Floor Jansen was here, and so were the other musical heads that Sharon knew of but didn’t know well. Tarja looked like she felt right at home, chatting and laughing with her friends and acquaintances like she was the queen of them all. Still basking in that post-adrenaline rush of her gig, Sharon presumed, as if the orgasm she brought her wasn’t enough.

“Hey, you are really quiet tonight.” Said her husband, enjoying himself too much with the food and beer. Sharon jolted from her thoughts and quickly took a sip of her wine. Gosh, _really_? It would take her _husband_ to make her realize she was _jealous_?

“I totally understand you don’t like _her_.” Robert continued with a lower voice, “But come on.”

As a response, Sharon downed her fifth glass of wine this evening. Either it was the alcohol that went straight to her head, or the fact she knew she’d fucked-up big time, she fled the scene with an _I need some air_.

She thought she heard Robert announcing that she didn’t feel well. It was not like she was doing this for attention.

***

“Thought I’d find you here.”

A familiar voice broke the silence. Sharon glanced sideways and there was Tarja, sauntering towards her with a bottle of water.

She took the cap of her hoodie off. She was sitting on a bench behind the club, and she made sure she didn’t look friendly enough to recognize.

Tarja just sat down and handed Sharon the water.

“In case you needed to sober up.”

“I didn’t drink that much.” Protested Sharon, taking the peace-offering nonetheless. Tarja rolled her eyes.

“Yeah. Fifteen minutes in and four glasses gone. Tell me about it.”

“Looks like someone has been keeping tabs.”

Said Sharon lightly as she unscrewed the bottle. Tarja only looked at her. After Sharon finished her hydration, Tarja cleared her throat, “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

Tarja tsked impatiently. Sharon sighed and muttered, “All right.”

“How about…on the count of three, we say what we wanna say?”

Tarja glared at Sharon. It was a stupid idea. It was rare that Sharon wanted to talk. Sharon wriggled her brows. Tarja sighed, and nodded.

“One, two—”

“We can’t have sex anymore.”

It was almost nauseating that they were so alike; they even said the same thing. They stared at each other. A second ticked by. And another.

They burst out laughing.

When the giggles died they gazed at each other, still catching their breaths. They could hear voices from the club but they were consumed with the looks from their opponents’ eyes. Tarja understood what unsettled Sharon. Sharon understood what plagued Tarja.

“You rode on a tour bus here, right?”

***

The excuse was that Tarja wanted to blame Sharon for crashing her pre-stage warmup, thus ruining her show. But between the Dutch and the Finn, they knew this might be the last time they got their hands on each other. Plus, it would be a waste for Tarja to not fuck Sharon for the score she’d been keeping.

So they got the WT tour bus to themselves.

It was really bad timing for them to get nervous. Tarja’s fingers went clumsy for Sharon’s shirt, and Sharon’s movements were filled with pent up emotions. This all started as a competition, then an outlet, and now this.

Sharon didn’t know what to think when Tarja kissed her. It was what she’d been craving and it was different from all of the other kisses she’d ever received.

For the first time, Sharon didn’t know how to categorize their relationship. Tarja was sharper than nails but smoother than butter, and that baffled Sharon—was it possible to become infatuated with someone so quickly?

“Stop thinking.” Ordered Tarja, her hands roaming over Sharon’s upper torso, “You always think too much.”

“How do you know?”

Tarja licked from the valley of her breasts to her collarbone. Then she nipped her jaw, stealth like a cat.

“Because I’m just like you.”

Their eyes connected briefly before Tarja continued to undress Sharon. Her lips were all over her, making her skin boil and head in a haze. She found herself naked with Tarja fully clothed. Shame only made her more aroused. Images of Tarja coming undone flashed back, rousing all the aches Sharon managed to snuff out with sheer will.

Sharon’s breath caught in her throat when the younger woman pushed her down on the couch. She whimpered when Tarja made her way to her center with a trail of kisses. With the removal of her soaked underwear, the air hit her pussy that was already wet. Thankfully Tarja’s mouth was there to block the coldness.

Sharon gathered Tarja’s hair into her hands for Tarja to go on more smoothly. If she died upon the sight of Tarja giving her an oral job, she would die happy. The scene was so sensual. With the streetlights flowing into their heated space, Sharon would think they were in some cheap rom-com, where the protagonist finally got to have his cherry popped in the backseat of his car. It was all about the ambiance of secrecy.

Tarja wasn’t in a hurry. Sharon could feel it. She was worshipping her. Her tongue sent electric jolts as she licked from Sharon’s opening to her clit, then on repeat. It was perfect to slowly push Sharon towards the edge, but far from enough for her to come. Arousal pool in her stomach. She levitated her hip but Tarja shoved her back.

“My turn.” She said simply. Her ocean eyes flickered with a thousand shades of green.

“If you don’t hurry, they’ll come to look for us.” Said Sharon with difficulty when Tarja replaced gentle touches with a slightly rougher hand, palming her pussy and rubbing it in leisure.

“Don’t you worry.” Tarja pecked her inner thigh, the mischief painted her the best seductress yet, “I’ve got us covered.”

Sharon raised a brow, then she cried and lurched when Tarja quickened her motions. The couch creaked. Tarja’s hands made unbearably good friction with her clit and entrance. Sharon could feel her muscles twitch for complaint, threatening to malfunction, but she couldn’t care less. She wanted _more_. She grabbed blindly at something to hold. Tarja linked their hands together.

They were making noises of _splat-splat splat_ that was lost to Sharon, because she was making sounds that she didn’t know she was capable of. Between moaning, quaking and howling, Sharon writhed in Tarja’s hand. It didn’t take long for her to finally come with a yelp, then a series of wails (and curses) as Tarja held Sharon’s pelvis in place so she could prolong the pleasure.

Tarja was far from finished. She had to get back at Sharon, so that was why she didn’t stop. Sharon was still sensitive, but Tarja couldn’t wait any longer. Before the brunet was fully conscious, Tarja pushed a finger in her slippery tunnel. Sharon made a half-protesting mewl, too weak to push Tarja away. Tarja loved how defenseless she became.

“I need you to come for me again.” Explained Tarja, “Do you understand me?”

Tarja’s attitude made her feel small, like some kind of horny teen waiting to be spanked by daddy, but Sharon knew her body had yearned this. And she hated herself for wanting to go again.

So she nodded. Tarja inserted a second finger. Sharon accommodated her, her numb senses trying to make a comeback from the shocks. But unexpectedly, like the masochist side of her took over, Sharon actually found pleasure in the discomfort. The meatal pressure that she had to come again was also a cherry-on-top. It felt shitty to be bossed around, but being bossed around by Tarja…not so bad, when Tarja was more than happy to fit the third-fucking-finger into her pussy.

Sharon moaned as she was stretched. She loved a good challenge, and that was what Tarja could give her—a test on how much she could take, and how long she would last.

She was Sharon’s greatest match ever.

Sharon felt like a dirty slut; she could tell she was making a mess of the arousal pooling between her legs. Tarja’s brows were slightly knitted, concentrating on Sharon’s body and pondering how far she could push it. She pushed Sharon’s legs wider first and got to her knees, so she could get a better angle to fuck Sharon deeper.

Tarja towered her. Sharon shivered and for the first time, wanted to look away in shame. She did exactly that, but Tarja’s vacant hand clasped her chin, and forced her into direct eye-contact.

The fiery glint made Tarja’s eyes in shades of evil-green. Sharon got lost in that all-powerful look. Tarja appeared impassive. Distant, even. Her lips were pursed. If it weren’t for the gentle rise-and-fall of Tarja’s chest, and the blush that darkened her cheeks, Sharon would say Tarja was as perfect as a Greek statue.

“If you looked away, I will stop.” Warned Tarja, her voice rumbling thick from her chest. Sharon gulped and choked out a whine when Tarja drove her digits deep— _so fucking deep_ —into her raw entrance. It didn’t sting. In fact, Sharon opened up in a way that made Tarja’s eyes widen.

“Aren’t you eager.”

Tarja said quietly, creating a slow, steady rhythm with her thrusts. Sharon could finally see emotions on Tarja’s face. She looked unsatisfied. Her hands glided down to Sharon’s neck. Sharon had the wildest thought that maybe she would choke her, but Tarja continued to her breast and grabbed all of her into her palms. Sharon arched, eyes closing briefly for how good the fondling was, with the fingers filling her again and again.

Then Tarja stopped. Completely. Sharon wriggled, breaths erratic. The younger woman put a hand on her lower belly.

“Stay still.” It was the same tone as before, so low that a part of Sharon vibrated with her voice, “And I want you to look at me when you come.”

Sharon just wanted friction. Or pressure. Anything at all. She was so needy that she only nodded, losing the ability to talk, or to think coherently. Fire was coursing through her system. As every second passed, Sharon felt closer to the edge. Any touch now could send her over.

Something took over Tarja; hunger, perhaps. Her fingers moved again—or to be exact, she started to _ram_ Sharon’s well-adjusted pussy as hard as she could. Sharon screamed but no sound came out. Tarja’s gaze was entirely focused on her. She could barely move her digits, but she managed to reach and take and _feed_ that ache that was consuming the brunet. Sharon curled up taut like she’d been wounded, then she splayed out, limbs flailing as the coil wound up tight, so tight that it broke out of Sharon’s lower tummy, releasing a storm that tore through her body.

Sharon finally screamed, so loud that maybe people all the way from the club could hear. Her walls clamped around Tarja’s fingers as her body snapped, every fiber of her muscle on fire.

Tarja kept going.

Then she hit a spot that made Sharon shriek and Sharon didn’t know how she did that. Honestly, she didn’t care, when she could feel her third orgasm impending with the previous spasms not quite gone. It was painful, but the look on Tarja’s face challenged her, encouraged her to take on the next round.

Tarja curled her fingers every time she hit that spot Sharon didn’t know she had. And Sharon could only produce breathy sounds now, because her throat was used up raw, and so was her pussy. Tarja didn’t stop even as Sharon broke their staring contest, face contorted in ecstasy, and tossed her head back. The veins of her neck stood for attention. Perspiration rolled down her collarbone. Her legs could barely stay open because Sharon wanted to keep Tarja’s fingers there. Tarja knew what was going on. She slapped Sharon’s legs wide and held her there, forcing her to take her fingers in so she could get that release.

It wasn’t a release. It was torture. Sharon fell on the couch after she arched herself up, her body shuddering in over-stimulations. Her eyes were squinted close. She also had a slack expression. Her hairdo was ruined, and so was her makeup.

Tarja didn’t seem to mind that her makeup was ruined by Sharon’s juices. She eased out her fingers, wiped them on her jeans, and sat on the floor by the couch.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, and studied the brunet. She was gorgeous without that prim, stern look that put ten years on her face. Now, Sharon had the finest aesthetic of human history.

“We have to get back”

Croaked Sharon weakly. Tarja snapped back to reality, stood up and found the discarded clothing for the Dutch. The wordless space felt natural, even if Tarja didn’t take her eyes off Sharon as she dressed.

“That was…”

The older woman shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what had happened. Tarja couldn’t believe that too. She managed to pull three orgasms out of Sharon.

“Yeah.” Tarja finally spoke. They gazed at each other, and this time it felt different, like they shared something that only they could appreciate.

“Man, you’re incredible.” Sharon smirked. She stood up slowly. Tarja smiled and helped the taller woman. She didn’t push her away.

“I bet you won’t be able to walk properly tomorrow.”

Sharon shoved the younger woman with her elbow, and then they chuckled, like old friends rather than rivals.

***

The night air was cold. A brunet and a dark-haired woman trekked in the dark. Their hands were linked together.

“It’s going to happen again, isn’t it?”

Asked the woman with a Finnish accent. The other woman sighed.

“I guess so. And, if I remembered correctly…” The brunet said something filthy that made the shorter woman flush, “That’s why it’s going to happen again. And it’s your fault.”

“I thought you haven’t been keeping score.”

Muttered the Finn as they arrived at the club. The brunet was about to say something smart when one of their friends waved at them with enthusiasm.

“Tarja! Sharon!” He noticed their joined hands, “Congrats! Glad you guys made peace finally! Did you kiss and make up or something?”

Sharon and Tarja quickly let go of each other, avoiding each other’s eyes.

_Two steps forward, one step back._

**Author's Note:**

> Still can't believe I got this done. I had been wanting to write this for a long time, but could never find a perfect place to start. Then I thought 'fuck it I'll just imagine these sweet ladies as sexy super-villains' and then THIS IS FINISHED  
> Tell me what you think! Comments, kudos and suggestions are loved!


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